


Shannon

by jack_hunter



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: (not explicitly stated but everything I write is Autistic Spencer), Autistic Spencer Reid, Cliffhangers, F/M, Hurt Spencer Reid, Hurt/Comfort, I might expand on this, Injury, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:53:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27204115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jack_hunter/pseuds/jack_hunter
Summary: David Rossi had stayed later at Quantico because his office seemed like the best place to do his radio interview with Annie Clide from New York City. Without the certainty of being able to get the time off to travel to the Big Apple, Rossi had instead offered to join the interview online from his office and answer the questions she had for him from there. It worked out well, in the end. Things went smoothly, but after the interview had finished and Rossi turned off his computer, he was left with an ache in his stomach. One that hadn’t gone away for nearly thirty years.Or, Rossi's past comes back to haunt him and gets Spencer hurt.-If people like this I'll expand on it.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 17





	Shannon

Halloween Eve, 2015

_ “Tomorrow is the thirtieth anniversary of the dreadful tragedy that took place on Halloween in nineteen-eight-five,” _ the voice of the radio host announced. It was late in the evening of October 30th, and Washington D.C was far hotter than it should have been. In the city, a bus was driving along its normal route from Foggy Bottom all the way to the Navy Yard. It wasn’t busy at that time in the evening since rush hour had come and gone already, meaning that day there was only one passenger aboard the bus. A woman with black frizzy curls and pale skin, glasses over her eyes and a backpack on the chair next to her. The woman didn’t normally take the bus, but it just so happened that on that particular Saturday her car was in the shop with engine trouble. 

_ “FBI Agent David Rossi was in charge of the investigation,” _ the radio host continued, the voice flowing through the woman’s headphones as she scrolled through her social media. 

_ “Thanks for having me, Annie,” _ the familiar voice of Supervisory Special Agent David Rossi replied. The woman’s stop was still a short way away, the streets becoming familiar the further she travelled. 

_ “-an update on Shannon Reagan, the girl who is still missing.” _ Annie the Host’s voice crackled and skipped, causing the woman to stare quizzically at her headphone jack. Stupid headphones were old and breaking. Again. 

“ _ Thirty years ago tomorrow, Angela and Shannon Reagan went missing whilst out trick-or-treating in their neighbourhood. The case was open for two years before the FBI were called in to take over- ... finding Angela and arresting the man responsible for-... Shannon was never found, _ ” Rossi explained, but his voice also skipped and cracked. The woman fiddled with her headphone jack, twisting in an attempt to align her headphones in the right spot to hear properly. She needed a new pair, but there was never any time to remember to buy some. 

_ “-a partner?” _

_ “That’s what we suspected but there was never any evidence to support it. With the Reagan family being very high up members of New York society there were a lot of people with interesting history with the family.” _ The bus slowed to a stop, letting on a few more passengers. The woman’s stop was the next one. 

_ “Is it possible that Shannon is still alive?” _ Annie the Host asked. 

_ “It’s entirely possible. There was never any ransom demands or-... probable that she ended up in the foster system or was taken in by another family.” _ Rossi replied just as the woman got off the bus with her backpack slung over her shoulder. Her phone was still in her hands as she continued to fiddle with her headphones. Thankfully, she was only fifteen minutes away from her destination. 

_ “What about Michael Hask, the man incarcerated for the kidnappings?”  _ Annie the Host asked as the woman came to a stop at the crossroads. 

_ “Hask was present when Angela was found, and when questioned he confessed to kidnapping the girls but refused to reveal the location of Shannon. He was, however, prosecuted on both accounts of kidnapping and sentenced to twenty-five years in prison,” _ Rossi spoke just as the light turned green and the woman hurried across the street. Her apartment was close by, visible just in the distance. 

_ “-To the Reagan family tonight-... this, the thirtieth anniversary of the disappearance of Shannon Reagan.”  _

Off the woman turned the radio, switching instead to her music library, but the headphones gave out and the woman just stuffed them into her coat pocket. She went back to her social media feed and refreshed the page about ten times. She was nearly home, but the morning was quiet and she didn’t want her mind to wander. When she reached the door to her apartment complex, she fished about for her keys and unlocked the door to the lobby, hurrying to the elevator where she pressed the button for floor three. Half a minute later, she was on her floor, walking to the end of the hallway and inserting her key into the lock of apartment 3.06. The door opened with ease and the woman walked inside, immediately dumping her bag on the floor next to the coat rack and toeing off her shoes, kicking them into the pile of the rest of the pairs before shedding her coat and tossing it haphazardly over a hook. She was too exhausted to care about keeping it tidy. The lights in the hallway were off but a faint flicker of blue light came from the nearby room, the low sounds of a nature documentary playing. The woman smiled, making her way into the living room. 

A man was sitting on the sofa. He had long curls and was wearing a shirt with the top buttons undone, slacks and mismatched socks. He looked up when the woman entered the room, smiling brightly. 

“Hey!” He greeted, getting up. The two embraced, strong arms wrapping around the shoulders of the shorter woman whilst her own arms wrapped around the man’s middle, face burying into his chest, “how was work?”

“Tiring, as usual,” the woman replied, “rehearsals just started. I didn’t realise how difficult the dances are.” 

“Aren’t all dances on stage difficult?” The man asked. The woman pulled back slightly, just enough so she could look up at the man and raise an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, but this is  _ In The Heights _ . It’s very fast dancing,” she argued lightly. The man just shrugged, kissed the top of the woman’s head and guided her to sit down on the sofa. 

“I ordered pizza half an hour ago, it’ll be here soon.” He told her, sitting down next to the woman and taking her hands in his own, “with Lucy at a friends house for the night it’s just the two of us, and I don’t have a case tonight. 

“Don’t jinx yourself,” the woman joked. The man laughed. 

The couple were too caught up in their talking to hear the knock at the door the first time, but the second time they noticed it and both got up. The woman went to the kitchen to get plates, whilst the man went to open the door and give the money to the delivery guy. After reaching for the plates from the cupboard the woman went into the fridge and decided to bring out the nice wine, her thought process being that it was a Saturday and she deserved to spoil herself just a little. She grabbed two wine glasses and put them on the counter next to the plates, and was about to reach for some kitchen towels when a grunt and a thud from the living room caught her attention. 

“Honey?” she called out, but got no response. She peered around the archway, but saw nothing. Kitchen towels in hand, the woman walked out of the kitchen and stood in the archway to the living room, hand fumbling against the wall for the lightswitch. She flicked it on. The kitchen towels fell from her hand. 

“Spencer!” she cried, running over and collapsing to her knees at Spencer’s side where he lay motionless on the floor, blood staining his shirt as she counted four stab wounds in his abdomen that she tried to put pressure on to stop the bleeding. His breathing was shallow, barely there, and his eyes fluttered. 

“Angie…” Spencer breathed out, merely a whisper, “... behind you…” 

“What?” the woman, Angie, asked, but as she did so a hard object made contact with the back of her skull and she went falling onto the floor, out cold. A man stood over her, dressed entirely in black, before he bent down and scooped Angie up into his arms as if she weighed nothing. Spencer could barely see what was happening, the pain hazing his vision before he finally gave into it and passed out. 

The pizza delivery guy was let into the complex by another occupant who was entering at the same time. The teenager bounded up the stairs to apartment 3.06 and found the door open, so he knocked before pushing the door in a little bit more so he could enter. Then, he called the police. 

David Rossi had stayed later at Quantico because his office seemed like the best place to do his radio interview with Annie Clide from New York City. Without the certainty of being able to get the time off to travel to the Big Apple, Rossi had instead offered to join the interview online from his office and answer the questions she had for him from there. It worked out well, in the end. Things went smoothly, but after the interview had finished and Rossi turned off his computer, he was left with an ache in his stomach. One that hadn’t gone away for nearly thirty years. 

It was the one case he never spoke about. The disappearance of Angela and Shannon Reagan, twin girls who were kidnapped on Halloween with only the eldest, Angela, ever being found. It haunted him to that day knowing he had never been able to find Shannon, knowing that the Reagans had to live with that shadow for the rest of their lives. The profile had been right. The criminal had confessed. Shannon was still missing. 

Tomorrow, Rossi would call Frank and ask how he was doing. Not only had Frank Reagan lost his youngest daughter, but his wife had passed nearly twenty years ago and one of his sons had fallen in the line of duty five years earlier. The man had suffered a lot and Rossi admired how strong he always was despite it. 

Rossi had been about to get up when his door was thrown open. Hotch stood in the doorway - of course he of all people was still at the office that late in the evening. Jessica had Jack and there were reports to be filled - but as Rossi was about to make a comment about knocking he noticed the distressed look on the Unit Chief’s face. Rossi stood up immediately. 

“Spencer was attacked,” Hotch said, “he’s been rushed to a&e. I’ve called the rest of the team; they’re gonna meet us at the hospital.”

Neither could have guessed just how much Rossi’s past was about to come back and haunt him. 


End file.
